


You Hit Like A Girl

by allthebeautifulthings9828



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Arguing, Dean and Cas fight, Dominant Dean, Drunk Dean, Dry Humping, Fallen Castiel, Fist Fights, Groping, Human Castiel, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, POV Castiel, Protective Castiel, Public Hand Jobs, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 15:53:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthebeautifulthings9828/pseuds/allthebeautifulthings9828
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel knew what most of the universe thought of him. The awkward nerdy angel. The virgin. The naive childlike human who needed to be rescued and coddled. Most people never knew how much that infuriated him. But, as Castiel accepted life as a hunter, he still took all the same teasing from Dean and Sam. And a witch case was the one that made his temper snap. A drunken fistfight with Dean suddenly went down a road Castiel never knew he needed so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Hit Like A Girl

Castiel knew what most of the universe thought of him. The awkward nerdy angel. The virgin. The naive childlike human who needed to be rescued and coddled.

Most people never knew how much that infuriated him. Even as a fledgling, he put up with endless teasing from Gabriel and Balthazar, who then told him to lighten up, that even human brothers made fun of each other. But Castiel wasn't that naive. He knew too much heart was always his problem. So he learned to keep quiet, to do what his conscience dictated, and to fight like a lion in combat.

Getting forced out of Heaven into humanity put a kink in his routine though, and his human body never seemed to cooperate just right. He knew more forms of combat than Dean or Sam could comprehend, but spending time trying to acclimate to weakened human strength made him look uncoordinated and inexperienced. Occasionally, Dean tried to teach him to fight but Castiel refused the help. He already knew everything Dean could teach him, except perhaps using firearms, which he learned in just a few days. Communication was never their strongest mutual skill anyway.

But, as Castiel accepted life as a hunter, he still took all the same teasing from Dean and Sam. They were worse about it together than apart, like boys feeding off each other, but he knew that was how they expressed affection. They teased each other too. So he did his best to let it go. It was a small price to pay for living with Dean, really.

Castiel developed a taste for certain kinds of cases too. He enjoyed hunting witches because they usually made them have to think harder to solve things.

And a witch case was the one that made Castiel's temper snap.

They chased the leader of the coven on foot for five blocks. Sam pulled ahead quickly, being the long-legged man who exercised religiously, but Castiel wasn't too far behind him. He'd taken up running months ago and easily had the stamina for the chase. Dean loathed exercise even though the hunter life kept him in great shape, but he pulled up the rear of the chase, which apparently put him in a bad mood. He liked being the one to do the take down.

She spun at the last second, though, and cold-cocked Sam into a wall. Castiel flew at her and jammed the heel of his hand into her chest, meaning to catch her in the throat. Instead of knocking her out, he just pissed her off.

Dean caught up just as she punched Castiel and he shot her in the forehead without hesitation.

The hunt had them so pumped full of adrenalin that they knew they weren't going to sleep for hours, so Dean suggested they go to a bar. No surprise. Although he drank less since Castiel moved into the bunker, but when they went to bars, he got bombed. Every time. Castiel usually stayed at the bars looking after him even after Sam got tired and went to bed.

That night, somewhere around one in the morning, Dean decided he wanted to smoke. Sometimes he enjoyed cigarettes in bars no matter how Castiel cautioned him against it.

He stumbled outside with a cigarette borrowed from a stranger, and Castiel followed at some distance. The alley behind the bar felt narrow and swallowed by darkness, only lit toward one end by a white streetlight, stuttering with a short in the bulb. He watched Dean slowly stalk a long path up and down the alley, occasionally bringing the cigarette to his mouth.

"I don't need a babysitter, Cas," he muttered. "You coulda gone back to the motel with Sam."

"You're entirely too intoxicated to be left alone, Dean," he argued.

The hunter scoffed at him. "What are you gonna do? Save me if I get mugged by vampires?" He wiggled his fingers to illustrate a comically spooky point.

"I'm watching over you." Castiel leaned against a brick wall with his arms folded over his chest. "Why are you so hostile lately?"

"Hostile," he snorted. "I don't need  _you_ watching over  _me_. One of these days, I'm gonna end up watching you get ganked by something. You're the one needing a babysitter."

Castiel ignored it with a subtle eye roll. "Just finish smoking."

"Don't tell me what to do," Dean slurred back.

"Dean..." he replied with a humanly irritated tone.

Apparently his tone amused Dean. Lips curled back in the dim streetlight and he laughed bitterly, but as Castiel looked closer, he saw something different in the shadows of green eyes. Dean wasn't hostile or angry. He was confused and hurt, but why, nobody certainly knew, least of all him.

But just as Castiel decided to question him, Dean scoffed again and muttered, "You hit like a girl."

A surge of entirely too much human emotion propelled Castiel from the wall before he realized it. Dean may have been hurt and confused by something, but Castiel felt something slip inside, some loss of control. He tingled, heat rising to his skin, and like letting off a charge of gunpowder, he spun Dean around and hurled a violent fist across his jaw. Dean's head whipped backwards with the impact and his body stumbled against the opposite brick wall. Vaguely, Castiel felt pain radiating through his own hand but he certainly got the best of Dean.

The hunter shook his head as if trying to regain his senses. Once he realized Castiel punched him, Dean straightened, though still quite drunk, and reciprocated by throwing a punch of his own. Castiel ducked easily and spun away from the drunken swaying of Dean's unsteady stature. Turning as well, Dean clocked his nose, which exploded a mass of stars in his eyes.

Castiel's temper slipped beyond recovery in that moment, absolutely sick to death of everyone questioning his abilities, and he backhanded Dean with a hardened fist. Flipping sideways gave Castiel a momentary advantage and he twisted Dean's arm behind his back. He shoved his chest into the brick wall and held him there for a long moment, knowing both of them had to calm down before somebody really got hurt. Dean panted heavily but he seemed to relax a bit after a time, so Castiel let him go with a shove.

It was time to go inside and let him cool off and sober up, Castiel decided as he turned toward the bar again. He strode away but Dean grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, spinning him into another wall. The impact on his back knocked the wind out of him, as did the back of his head hitting brick. Dean fisted balls of Castiel's jacket, pinning him against the wall, but not hitting him or even kneeing him in the groin as he'd taught Castiel to do in that situation. Instead, his green eyes narrowed to slits and his mouth tightened. He stared Castiel down as if trying to communicate something but not having the words.

Castiel shoved him back in a bid for freedom. If he didn't walk away, they'd do things they couldn't take back later. But as Dean rushed him again, the former angel twisted on one leg with easy agility and caught Dean across the chest with his other foot. Flying back a solid eight feet, the hunter hit the ground.

A cool stride overtook Castiel's legs and he stood over Dean. Both of them panted raggedly and sweat with the exertion.

"Are we clear now?" said Castiel darkly.

Dean said nothing on the ride back to the motel that night and neither did Castiel, yet neither of them seemed angry enough to ride separately. The exchange baffled the former angel, who had never truly been angry at Dean, but with the situation. And the situation wasn't something he could quite pinpoint either. Although Dean couldn't bring himself to say anything, it seemed, he did appear to share that confused sentiment.

They went into neighboring motel rooms without so much as a syllable of I'm sorry or good night. After an hour of flipping channels alone in his room, Castiel decided he couldn't live a night with guilt eating away at his new human soul.

So Castiel threw his clothes back on and stepped outside. Within a few seconds, Dean's door flung open too, and they stared at each other, shocked that the other appeared nearly at the same time.

"Dean, I--"

But Castiel never got to deliver his well-rehearsed apology. Dean's face hardened and he abruptly threw Castiel's back into the wall by fistfuls of his shirt. No, no! That wasn't how it was supposed to go! Castiel was supposed to say he was sorry for fighting with his best friend and then they'd go back to  _being_ best friends.

A predatory, angry glare darkened Dean's face as he momentarily stared at his target, but it wasn't the same as in the alley. Though his jaw clenched and his mouth turned slightly downward, his eyes softened. And Dean shook him hard as if trying to make him disappear. When he didn't, Dean's heavy boot kicked the wall beside him, and he closed the gap between them, furious but desperate and consumed. The solid, wide thickness of Dean's body pressed into the entire length of Castiel's toned, strong body. He no longer pinned him there with his fists, but the whole of his body, so tightly that Castiel felt the details of his clothes through his own.

Dean said nothing to explain himself but clamped his hands around Castiel's jaw. Only the briefest hesitation delayed him until he crushed his mouth over the former angel's lips in a rushed, intense sort of unpracticed kiss. Skin on skin, stubble on stubble, their lips explored each other in neither a gentle nor tender manner.

Thoughts refused to connect in Castiel's mind. Only fragments of realization battled the consuming sensation of being pinned against a wall and being marked like Dean's territory. He felt an arm tug around his lower back, scraping between himself and the wall, and the fist pulled at his shirt, not in anger but desperation. For as long as Dean tried to shove him away, he suddenly couldn't keep him close enough. And if anyone walked by outside of the motel, neither of them would have noticed.

Castiel's hands combed the back of Dean's head and his instincts made him open his mouth, allowing the hurried, fevered kiss to deepen. There was no question about it then. They hit the point of no return with each other and their bond. All of Dean's aggression and anger suddenly made sense.

Of its own accord, Castiel's pelvis curled into Dean from the wall. He stuttered, feeling Dean shiver as the friction rubbed his rigid cock through his jeans. It was true. It was real. He honestly wanted Castiel bad enough to throw him against a wall outside of a motel and roughly kiss him until they began grinding against each other. Inexperienced, yes, Castiel was inexperienced, but he knew all that was required of himself to feel the blood rushing to his groin and the increasing ache of his cock needing attention. Thinking of Dean stroking him there against the wall produced a stifled moan into their impassioned kisses.

As if reading his mind, Dean let go of the grip around his back and passed his clawed hand over the obvious bulge filling Castiel's jeans. Hips rolled with the palming, rubbing motion until sparks threatened at the base of his spine. Hoarsely, Castiel groaned Dean's name as the hunter wetly mouthed his throat.

A shift in tighter pressure and Castiel's spine abruptly curled, pushing him into Dean's chest. Dean wedged his thigh between his own thighs to keep him upright as his head rolled back against the wall. His mouth hung open with uneven gasps until he felt lightning coil up through his stomach and spine directly from his cock. Castiel came there against some motel wall, pinned with no escape by Dean, and he clawed at biceps riding it out and needing more. Stars exploded in his eyes again just the way they had when Dean punched him in the alley.

When he finally went limp against Dean's shoulder, silence passed, allowing him to regain composure. And then Dean peeled himself away with a light push. Castiel's bleary eyes recognized the flushed red condition of his skin and his shortened breath, he knew Dean denied himself completion.

Staring him down again, Dean murmured, "Are we clear now?"

Castiel nodded, still out of breath.

Without another word, Dean grabbed the belt loop off to the side of Castiel's jeans and tugged him into his motel room.

And that was the night Dean learned not to tell Castiel that he hit like a girl.


End file.
